Friday Fictioneers – the street

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The street is much like any other. Narrow. Scrawny dogs sleep on the sun-baked cobbles, and people cling to the cool of the shadows. History hangs heavy in the humid air. The rattle of Sennacherib’s chariots and the tramp of Caesar’s legionaries echo faintly, along with the brutal jeers of Allenby’s Tommies. The toll of ancient bells carries screams.  

I cannot love you here. The blood drowns my tenderness.


Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here

52 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – the street

  1. Oh, wow. Incredibly good writing, Neil.

    I’m wondering if there is truly any place in the world, though, where there has not been blood shed to pollute the sand, the streets, the water, the air.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. His life must be a misery if he can pick up the events of the past in this chilling way. For there is indeed a murderous back-story to many a town that attracts visitors in this way. Beautifully written.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I like how you condense the history of the place. I am sure many people live in areas where they have no idea of the historical past – perhaps just as well as who needs reminding of the brutality of man. It is already all around us.

    Liked by 1 person

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